Warrior's Judgement
by Fenris30
Summary: Two enhanced assassins, both of them with only bits of memory, both of them with a hatred for J6. Will they be able to find common ground? Jean Kujo-a hulking karateka, brutally strong, with the face of an angel and a love of battle. Goh Hinogami-A ruthless judoka who seemed to revel in carnage, every scar telling a story. Time would tell if they would get their vengeance...


Having been brainwashed, enhanced, and turned into a relentless killer, Jean Kujo was J6's next human weapon to send into the tournament. With no memory except for how to destroy his foes and whatever he learned while he was there, he was finally set on some test battles...most of the scientists in charge of him pleased with their results.

One lone scientist, who designed some of J6's more powerful enhancements, is now riddled with guilt...

Faint memories of other people enter in and out of Jean's mind-people who had wronged him, but also his targets...and only time will tell if he can truly break free from their grasp...

In the city, a rage-filled judoka named Goh has managed to work his way into a criminal syndicate, his skills well-used. He had failed J6 once...what would become of him?

* * *

Prologue

 _Early Spring, 20XX, a J6 research compound._

The scientist sighed, stubbing out another cigarette and taking a sip of coffee that was on the desk next to him, shuddering. It went cold and was shockingly bitter, but he would take anything right now.

He scratched his head-he was a middle aged, slightly balding man with a thin mustache and the look of someone who maybe slept four hours a night at best-adjusted his glasses, and settled back into his worn seat.

The scientist's name was Johnson, and he had worked with this organization for almost two decades. He was not a bad man. He did not particularly aim to cause suffering, but sadly, like many of his kind years back, he was fooled into a line of work that promised prestige and money. He got them both...though at the cost of several pieces of his soul in the process. Judgement 6 did not let their workers go easily, he found out the hard way; indentured servitude with J6 was for life. He was simply too privy to too much delicate information. Nowadays he was no longer a thirty-something scientist enjoying his new-found prestige; he was nearing fifty, lived on whatever food they served in the machines at the lab, and had tended to hit the drink a little more often than not to try to take care of the stress and drown any guilt that might try to creep up on him.

But, life moved on.

It was another testing day in the lab, and today's would be quite a special one; one of their particularly advanced augmented assassins would be going against a souped-up warrior from a rival mega-corporation. This could mean-should things go pear-shaped-a lot of time and money down the drain. Along with some asses on plates.

Many asses on plates, likely including his own, since he spearheaded his particular project a long time ago.

J6 did not have the greatest track record. While they raked in money with all sorts of illegal international arms deals, weapons smuggling, chemical weapons, bio-engineering and gods knew what else, they had a bit of trouble when it came to other areas. They lost, misplaced, or had fail several attempts at making some superior assassins. They would often kidnap people, try different ways of augmenting them at least somewhat, brainwash them, and attempt to get them to do their bidding, but something would always go wrong. Recently, one Goh Hinogami-a brutal, relentless judoka who seemingly reveled in carnage-failed to kill one of his targets in the tournament that they put him in.

He was now AWOL.

Goh and another man-who would be getting tested today-were probably the most enhanced to his recent memory, as they had been kidnapped young; barely into their teens.

Goh in particular went through a lot of still untested procedures that likely left him in the state he was in now. He still regret that to this day...but he also noticed that the new head scientist-a man Jenner, who was more than a bit amoral and related to one of the executives-a nephew, if he recalled-was quite into the more extreme levels of experimentation. Jenner had a sadistic side and cared little if subjects died on the table, so long as he got results. He had taken over the last head of the department, who mysteriously died about a year ago; he had his fingers in things for much longer than that, though.

This was not discussed, not even out of hearing. Walls and ears.

Goh was one of Johnson's. Well, not just his-he and his entire team, and this fellow was one of theirs, too; and this project was even more intense. Their team was worn down-it was quite taxing as often these procedures didn't take.

He couldn't shake his regret toward Goh, even though he had been one of their greatest overall successes. He had a feeling they had let a psychopath loose on the world when he had escaped, but given this man was supposed to go hunt him down and keep him in check, he tried not to think about it. He had never seen what Goh did to his opponents; he never asked. Out of sight, out of mind and all of that. He heard enough of the stories to make him shudder. Supposedly one underworld crime syndicate had an near-unstoppable enforcer and several others were down a whole lot of members. He was a scientist that while he was no stranger to surgical procedures, he generally had no stomach for violence.

The particular young man whom would be getting tested today was the other one of theirs. His name was Jean Kujo; a karateka who had received some of their most new and advanced procedures. Jean was a large man; seeing him next to the other fighters he was several inches taller than most, had long, white hair, fair skin, and a somewhat cold demeanor most of the time. He suspected the enhancements they gave him had made him distant.

Still, he loved to fight, and his violent nature would come through in the middle of one. He was brutally strong-the tests they put him through showed as much, and he even broke one of the machines used to test the power of his blows when he hit it with a particularly nasty kick. They had, besides some of the chemical enhancements-ones that were much better developed than the ones they had tested on Goh-began to weave a sort of flexible steel into his muscle fiber, able to store kinetic energy if he 'wound up' properly, to let loose with a far, far greater force than a human should be capable of; they also allowed him to take blows better. It was a new technique, and Jean was actually fully grown by the time they had tried it; he was the first, and today it would be seen if it worked out in anger.

In addition, they had implanted several sort of synaptic boosts down his spinal cord to increase his reaction; while this didn't necessarily make the menacing fighter more agile, he was better able to intercept an opponent's attacks. Other odds and ends included balance augmenters that helped him keep his feet better, enabling him to fight well with less fear of being tripped up.

It was a _lot_ of work, and for now, it seemed promising.

 _I hope he works out, anyway._

Lightning another cigarette and taking another sip of his horrible, cold coffee he stood, throwing on his lab coat and going into the other room; there was a smaller room in this one, separated by thick clear layered bulletproof ballistic glass.

This was their combat simulation chamber.

The other man was already in; perhaps just under six feet, he looked maybe thirty; rather innocuous, with short-cropped brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing what seemed to be military fatigues, leather gloves, and boots. Other scientists were in the room, waiting to see what would become of this. The other man looked unmodified, but from what he understood, had genetic and chemical engineering to enhance his abilities. He wondered how he managed to keep such a normal looking appearance, and wondered about their level of knowledge.

Jean soon walked in. He wore his hair down as usual, and a dark blue tattered gi; he seemed fond of this one despite the fact it was battle-worn. The arms were tattered up past the elbows, and legs were tattered well above his ankles; rope was worn around his waist for a belt. He wore dark blue and white, fingerless gloves on his hands, his feet were bare save for black instep guards. He stretched, looking over at the rest of the men, nodding. He smiled slightly, loosening up his limbs for the fight.

While he lacked Goh's sheer bloodthirst, Jean loved to overpower his opponents with crushing blows. His style focused more on powerful strikes; he would occasionally unleash a flurry of surprising speed for someone of his size, though it was clear he favored strength. He was no unrefined brute, however; he was incredibly skilled, clearly having trained before he was even kidnapped, and then continuing on under J6.

Once he started, it was hard to pull him off; certainly he would be what they needed in an assassin. Unlike some of the others, it seemed that he was given very little to emotion otherwise; he also seemed to follow orders nicely. Johnson knew there was more too him, though; it sort of disturbed him the rest never really got to know these subjects. He knew Jean as someone who, in his dormitory-locked with a special code with several thick doors, as all the subjects lived in-enjoyed often listening to his heavy metal music with headphones, as well as literature, when he wasn't giving himself to training. He did not speak much, but he had some more aspects to his personality than the other scientists would believe. Before Jenner had decided to start cutting down contact with the subjects-for 'conditioning' reasons', he said-Johnson would go to his room to meet him in a strategy game of sorts. He was sad when they decided to cut off said contact, as Johnson thought it humanized their 'weapons' more.

Which Jenner thought was the problem, he knew.

This would be Johnson's first time witnessing one of these battles, and he had to admit-he was mildly excited to see it. Despite his dislike of violence, he had developed several of these cybernetic procedures, and he was excited to see how they would work in a live situation.

He would also feel a measure of relief, as the sooner they could retire some of these much touchier chemical procedures, the better; they were simply too erratic to rely on, he felt. Not that it kept Jenner from continuing to order it, of course.

When the men were lined up by the window-Johnson, Jenner, and two men from the rival mega-corp, Jenner nodded toward the two on the inside. "Begin," he said, an evil smirk on his face.

They took poses; Jean a tall, wide pose, his hands up, ready to either block or strike, depending on his opening. The other man took a pose a bit lower to the ground; he wasn't quite sure of what style he was. Johnson didn't really know styles unless they were told to him.

They circled; darting back and forth, checking each other with quick jabs. The other man was moving a bit faster, he could tell; he was likewise a bit more maneuverable in his ducking and weaving, almost like some of his style he had studied was boxing, but he was also doing a few leg strikes here and there. He had a feeling Jean was stronger, though, and must have had at least six inches of reach on the other man.

Some blows hit; some punches, kicks, knees, and elbows, from both sides, though they were more than glancing. Jean was rather good at keeping the other man out, he noticed; he simply had more arm-length and his long legs would lash out in kicks that the other man would leap back to steer clear of. He may not have known anything about fighting, but he felt that Jean was controlling the pace of this match.

Finally, he saw Jean duck a high elbow before he came up with a high spinning roundhouse kick that Johnson could tell had a ton of power behind it. It seemed to only tag the other man in the mouth thanks to a quick dodge, however...but Jean's strength was frightening. What seemed to be a simple strike resulted in several teeth flying out and a stream of blood hitting the glass. The rival corporation's scientist stepped back suddenly, looking a bit shocked at what he saw-if a blow that Jean did not even seem to put even a quarter of his strength into could do that, what would a full-strength strike do?

He waved his hands, seemingly giving in. "That...will be enough."

Jenner grinned coldly. "Will it, now."

The man blinked. "That's enough. Call it off." His voice sounded on edge.

"If your man is that good, a little blood shouldn't matter." He adjusted the pens in the pocket of his lab coat. "If your enhancements are as good as you say, he should be able to come back, no? These assassins will have to potentially face many more enemies at once." He turned again toward Jean, who had paused to circle the man who was knocked to his knees, spitting blood into the floor. "Continue."

The rival looked surprised, but could do nothing in this situation; Jenner was right-if they couldn't stand behind their procedures, then what good were they?

The fighter they brought looked startled, though stood up to continue. Blows were traded again back and forth, and while Jean showed some signs of battle with a small trickle of blood from his mouth and things that would become bruises on his body, the other man was _not_ looking good. His being enhanced was likely the only thing keeping him running, coupled with evading most of the moves rather than blocking them, but the ones that tagged him clearly hurt.

Johnson's stomach sank. Jean's eyes looked halfway between enjoying his time in combat and simply not caring. To him, fighting was fighting, and orders were orders; he would enjoy fighting while he followed his orders. This man's life meant nothing to him, he knew. That was how they formed Jean after they brainwashed him.

The place grew decidedly bloodier; a fierce punch struck the man in his cheek, no doubt breaking it by the sound and the look; as he stumbled back, Jean gathered up strength and punched him in the chest with a straight punch that had such force behind it Johnson heard the ribs crack.

He was impressed the other man still tried to stand...and succeeded, though he spat a lot more blood out onto the ground; he wondered how he could breathe after those blows to his chest. He fumbled another cigarette out of the pack, finding himself extremely nervous at the moment. Whatever they had done to this man, they had given him an amazing endurance to still look like he was ready to try to fight some more.

With a yell, Jean ran, crouched low, and came up with a quick hand strike; the man was knocked back slightly, though even that light strike was enough to make him spit more blood. He noticed Jean was then seemingly winding up for another attack. The man seemed confused; he didn't know whether to back off, block or strike when Jean leapt, ferociously kicking him square in the side of the face with a blow that resulted in a loud and sickening _crunch._

Johnson noticed that was the same attack that he had used that broke the machine they had to test him, so he had an idea of just how powerful it was.

Blood flew everywhere, and while the man was not dead, he span around from the blow for a moment, stumbling against the class and putting his hands against it, smearing even more blood around.

Half of his face was ruined; if the previous punch to the face broke several bones, the power of this kick shattered even more. The half that was just hit was a misshapen mask of blood, part of his forehead was caved in, and worst of all the eye on that side was now barely being held into its socket. Johnson's heart raced-his previous excitement to see the battle long gone and replaced with a dizzying dread, apprehension...and a sick sort of regret. He almost wished this man had _not_ been enhanced; he would be mercifully dead at this point.

The man's good eye seemed to be staring at all of them with a hatred...including his own men, almost asking why they let him stay in there. It glared again directly into him, and Johnson was unable to look away as much as he wanted to. He almost felt like he deserved this.

 _I made this._

As if to punish him more, he saw the man trying to speak...but nothing that made sense could come out. _He can't form words. Not with that sort of damage._ His thoughts were strictly scientific, but in his gut he felt horror.

Jenner folded his arms. "End it."

Jean walked forward, grabbing the man so hard by the arm it snapped in two; as it dangled loosely in his iron grip, he wound is hand back, smashing his fist down in the mans face twice, blood flying out with each hit, splashing even more on the floor, window, his pale skin and in his hair. He pushed him against the wall with a front kick to his broken ribs; he then punched him several more times before leaping and kicking him in the head with a leaping crescent kick that actually put Jean himself on the ground from the force. This final blow threw an enormous wash of blood over the window in front of the scientists.

Johnson suspected he was dead before all of this, but that last blow certainly did it if he hadn't been.

Jenner smiled. "Johnson, you guys did perfectly with this one." The blood ran down the window as they spoke.

Jean rolled and stood, looking at the men, taking quick fighting pose for a moment before nodding his head. His face, hair, hands, feet and chest were spattered in blood, but he thought nothing of it. He had killed with his bare hands before.

Johnson looked at the corpse on the ground; he had unfortunately fallen on his side rather than face down. He was a complete ruin; his arm openly shattered, his chest obviously pulverized, and his face a mask of blood and bone. Those last blows had opened up his head.

 _It only took him this long because this man had been enhanced himself, remember. If this had been a regular human..._

Johnson put out the cigarette in one of the tall ashtrays they had scattered around, nodding to the other men. He was shaking, trying not to throw up. _I've done this for ages. Almost two decades. But I've never seen what really happens. Sure, some died on the table, but it was medical. They just never woke up._

 _What have I made? Most of the others weren't this powerful. Goh even lost to a man in the tournament. The race-car driver. Albeit our techniques were not perfected yet. Plus they set him loose in the tournament before the chemicals could fully affect him._

 _But now...what sort of weapon did we arm them with?_

"There might be something in this for you, Johnson," Jenner replied, the grin on his face rather large, and the look on his face that of triumph; finally this assassin seemed to be the one they needed. The other scientist from the rival organization was pale and shaking himself, even worse than Johnson.

 _I...need to be alone._

–

There were folders. Lots of folders. Folders of deceased who never made it through the testing.

The two he had in his hands right now were Goh Hinogami's and Jean Kujo's. He was reading them rather thoroughly again, as it had been awhile. He had replaced his coffee with whiskey, as he felt like he needed it; besides this he had taken half a downer that he dug out of the cabinet. Only half, since he wanted to be able to think at least somewhat.

It would also give him some courage for tonight.

Several days had passed since the first horrible test. There had been a two more, both of them rather terrible as well; both of those men ended up dead, their bodies ending up on the ground broken in front of Jean by the end of the fight...but none that haunted him as much as that first one. He wasn't sure what it was, but he supposed having a man staring at him with an agonizing hatred as his other eye practically dangled from its socket from a mask of blood had a _whole_ fucking lot to do with it. Johnson knew he was probably staring at the lot of them, but he was the one standing there. He may- _may_ have been able to handle that...barely, had the man not tried to speak.

He shook his head, sipping more whiskey, trying to numb himself. He felt responsible for everything this week and everything that would happen with their new assassin. Out of sight, out of mind...that was a nice state of mind to be in that he knew he'd never get back.

Goh's folder was almost a horror to look through. So much testing, so many deaths, though he did not bear witness to these personally. He had struck out and killed J6 workers before. His combat style was completely brutal and unforgiving, and he thought nothing of human life. However, there was something with Goh; as much as he loved carnage-he loved something more; Hating J6. His hatred of this corporation was more than his love of general carnage...if anything giving him dirt on J6 meant he could destroy what he hated most. He had not seen nor heard from the young man in a year at least, however; part of the reason Jean was so important to them was that he would be used to both hunt down the rogue judoka and to do what he could not. He had to wonder, though. Goh he felt only lost because they sent him out too soon. The chemicals they used needed time to work. The Goh out there now-assuming he was indeed alive-would potentially be much more enhanced.

Taking another drink, he put his cigarette back into his mouth and opened Jean's folder.

It was no less terrible. Two parents, two older siblings. Captured in his early teens, and his family confirmed dead in the explosion of his house. He had no memory of any of this, of course, after the brainwashing. Had ties to the Rafale boy, whose father was a massive benefactor to their organization, though unlikely to remember anything.

He looked through all of his work; the things they had done to him. Johnson's research had proved to be amazing, and Jenner-as well as more higher ups-couldn't wait to put it to use for more. The brainwashing and whatever else they gave Jean would keep him fairly under control, allowing them to use him as a much more effective assassin. They didn't plan on losing this one.

 _Plans could go awry, though._

He wasn't sure of the risk. Knowing Goh's state of mind, he wondered if he were better under J6's control or not, but after witnessing everything he had this week, he thought he was better on his own. In Jean's case he would be almost sure of it. Jean loved fighting to be sure, and he thought almost nothing of killing an assigned target-sometimes brutally-but he did not particularly seem to seek out the act of killing for fun. He listened to orders, but if there were no one giving him those orders, he would be free to choose what he would want to do. Johnson felt he would possibly choose to simply live how he wanted.

He _hoped_. He was banking on gut instinct for all of this. If he was wrong, well...the seat in Hell was already waiting for him, so he reckoned it couldn't get much worse.

Johnson assembled Jean's folder again, making sure everything was in neat, chronological order, along with a handwritten note. He then put a small sticker on the side to seal it shut somewhat, placing it on his desk.

He poured himself another glass of whiskey, lighting yet another cigarette. He hadn't been able to eat much in several days, so it was going to his head...but he figured it would push him the rest of the way to do what he had been considering, he thought, when he saw that first test fight earlier this week.

–

The place was fairly quiet, being a bit late. He knew his co-workers would be in their respective offices, likely figuring things out for whatever J6 was planning next. A janitor nodded toward Johnson's direction; he returned the greeting, imagining he probably looked like hell right now.

He soon reached the dormitory; a special keycard let him through two heavily reinforced doors. The building they were in was one of their research outposts; this was not one of their main corporate headquarters. J6 had a lot of buildings scattered around the world, from small to archology sized; given it was headed by several of the more powerful mega-corporate owners of the world.

He let himself inside Jean's room.

It was spartan, as they all were; Jean was laying on his bed, his tattered blue gi on, though the top was shrugged off around his waist. He had his headphones on, and Johnson could make out some rather loud and intense heavy metal music, as he usually liked to listen to. Judging by things, he had just gotten done training.

Jean looked up, removing the headphones and smiling slightly. He liked Johnson. "Anything wrong?" he asked, his voice fairly soft. He stood, towering over the scientist.

Johnson looked him up and down. A little scarred here and there-both from testing and from combat-he was nonetheless probably one of the more ideal specimens of a human. Well muscled and with an appearance that could get about anyone to turn their head, he wondered what may have became of him if J6 hadn't done what they did. He had practiced Karate since he was in the single digits, he knew-as a teen he was already amazingly skilled, and it had been ten years beyond that of even harder training, on top of everything else he had gone through. He had some bruises and marks from his bouts this week, though he seemed to heal rather quickly overall.

 _It's a chance I'm going to take._

He slid the keycard in the folder that he had in his hand secretly, in the very back pocket. "I'd like you to read this. Perhaps not now. Wait a few hours." He offered the young man a cigarette; he knew he smoked from time to time. Jean took one and lit it, though he looked a bit confused.

"Any reason?"

Johnson managed to keep his composure. "I'll let you decide." He poked a cigarette into his own mouth. "What are you reading?"

Jean blinked, shaking his head to get back to the conversation. "Some martial arts history."

He smiled, taking a drag of his smoke. His hand was shaking slightly. "Keep it up." His own words sort of echoed in his head; he wasn't _quite_ sure what he was even saying anymore.

The young man laughed, sitting back down on the edge of his bed, the cigarette in his hand. He did not have the look of someone who had killed three men in 'test battles' this week. His demeanor when speaking to Johnson was perfectly cordial, even friendly; still, he always sensed that distance in him, like his mind was partially somewhere else. He wondered if he was constantly trying to almost subconsciously dredge up his own memories, or if it was a result of the enhancements that they had shoved into his body without his consent.

Shaking his head, he knew he had to get going. "Just wanted to bring that to you. I'll see you around."

The karateka nodded. "More tests this week?"

Johnson closed his eyes. "Perhaps." He nodded, turning to walk out. Jean spoke up again.

"You haven't came for a game in awhile."

The older man sighed as he stopped for a moment. "We've...been busy."

"I can imagine."

"Maybe soon," he lied. He turned to nod a farewell.

Jean watched him, slightly confused for a moment. He finally set the folder on the desk and went back to his music.

–

Johnson went back to his office, pouring himself a massive glass of whiskey. He could feel himself rather tipsy right now; this was good. It would give him even more courage.

He turned on his terminal; the special one, the one with the _really_ important info. This computer was not connected to the net; it was too risky to keep anything of this nature online.

Having already burned several things in the other room, he went through his research-the information used to turn Jean into the man that he was-deleting things. He sped up, almost trying to run away from his past, and everything. Haunted by the deaths, haunted by what he now knew that he made and the horror of a dying young man staring at him with hatred, he continued through the folders, deleting years of work as he smoked frantically.

It didn't matter now.

As he continued to zap the files, he checked the time. It was getting late, and he had not slept in what felt like days.

He finished his whiskey, now a bit more drunk than he was when he started. Finishing his cigarette, he stubbed it out, making sure he was happy with everything he had destroyed. He opened his desk drawer afterward.

The handgun had been there for awhile. He mostly kept it there for self defense. Working for J6 could be a risky endeavor, he knew. He removed it.

Johnson knew he just sentenced about everyone in this compound to death with his actions-and he had a feeling these deaths would end up far worse than what he had witnessed over the course of this week-but he thought that maybe if his final act could be to prevent something like this from happening again for awhile-even if it were through violent means-he could rest a bit easier. He knew that there would be blood in these hallways tonight, but he forgave himself for that much.

He knew they would just go back to the research, but he could set them back. Possibly by a few years. Long enough, he hoped, maybe for people to come along to take them down.

He also thought he owed Jean for the life they had stolen from him. He wouldn't be able to give him all of his memories back-he could only fill in what happened initially and a few other odds and ends-the rest would be up to him. It was too late for all the ones that he was in charge of that died on the table, or had to be killed due to going insane. He hoped Goh was still in some decent shape out there, as well.

He could, at least, try to make one thing right after over a decade of being complicit in J6's brand of evil, which is what he was, he knew.

After his desk was straightened up to his liking, he sat back in his chair.

The gunshot was barely heard.

–

It was about three AM before Jean Kujo finished the folder, the music blaring in his ears. Violent, angry music...which matched his mood right about now.

He looked up and around the room, wanting to smash everything in sight; but it would not satisfy him right now. All that was in the room was wood and metal. Wood and metal were inanimate and did nothing to him.

No, he wanted to smash human beings...namely some of the people working here right this instant. He went to place the folder on the desk when he felt something in the back; he flipped it open again to check it.

They keycard was smooth in his fingers, with designs on it; designs that would be read by the doors that held him in here. He lifted it up, his gray eyes examining it for a moment before tracing over to the door. He thought he had seen Johnson slide something into the folder, but he wasn't sure and didn't say anything.

He didn't know why, but for some reason the man seemed to want to let him loose. He knew Johnson was one of the people who had developed things for him...and in more detail now, thanks to the contents of the folder. The note had clearly spelled out the man's guilt; until now, he had never actually witnessed what their research actually did. Hearing about things and witnessing things were different.

Jean looked again at the keycard and the door.

The sadistic smile that slowly formed on his face said everything.

–

A/N: One man with just enough memory to know what J6 did to him now turned loose...

Virtua Fighter is one of those games with a pretty thin story and fairly light characterization. For a fanfic writer who loves the series, this is pretty fun since it lets us sort of cut a little loose with it, picking up plot bunnies and trying to form what we might think goes on behind the scenes. Many things are left open(like how exactly they enhance/brainwash the people, who works there, what else they're involved in, and so on.) Goh and Jean I always figured were some of the enhanced.

With Jean, his 'cyberpunk' outfit-the one with the tubes and mechanics-sort of inspired me to go a bit 'cybernetic' with his enhancements, especially since he was supposed to go after Goh in the story-I can see J6 looking for new and effective ways to enhance people. His pale appearance with his white hair sorta gives him that look as well. Goh, judging by his more extreme appearance, I always pictured having some sort of 'genetech' type of enhancements, with chemical things as well; stuff that unlocked extra potential in him but left him utterly unhinged, hence his thirst for violence and destruction. Those two, IMO, always seemed like they were some of the most excessively trained and enhanced.

Jean clearly loves to fight going by his dialogue, but generally seems colder overall...except for those odd times he gets pushed to the edge(his quotes like 'I will break you' and 'I'll pound you into foie gras', come to mind), which also, for my money, matches up with that sort of 'cybernetic' side. Cybernetically enhanced people in fiction can run cold with those small bouts of cyberpsychosis, so to speak, so this is where basically I was coming from with these two going by what little story they gave me. At the same time, he has a few lines that strike me that he's capable of having other personality bits that shine through.

They always struck me as being 'above human potential' with some of their moves, which I wanted to make come out. (Jean in particularly comes off as brutally strong with his charged attacks.) In fact it was the charged attacks he has that made me think of the whole muscle enhancements I described. I tried to pick enhancements that fit his in-game moveset and style well(and in his preview vids Sega always emphasized his great strength.)

Anyway, enjoy the ride!


End file.
